


Purely Angelic

by trulymadlylarry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Because Louis really loves Harry's hair, Bottom Harry, Daddy Kink, Harry braids his hair and Louis loses his chill, M/M, Top Louis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 12:47:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4565232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trulymadlylarry/pseuds/trulymadlylarry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Harry braids his hair to get Louis all riled up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Purely Angelic

At first, Harry isn’t too keen on the idea of growing out his hair.  He likes it the way it was, with his fringe and messy curls.  The fans seem to love it this way, judging by how loud they scream whenever Harry flips his hair to the side or brushes it out of his eyes.  He likes the way it frames his face and covers up his forehead, which occasionally forms a zit every now and then.

But of course, Louis thinks otherwise.

You see, Louis has an unhealthy obsession with Harry’s hair, always has.  Ever since  _X-Factor_ , he’s loved touching it, feeling how soft it is.  Sometimes he does it in inappropriate places, like in interviews or on stage or during sex.  Harry used to tease Louis’s fetish back when they were still teenagers, but now he just accepts it, loves it actually.  He lives and breathes for the feeling of Louis’s fingers slipping through his hair.

But eventually, Louis got a bit bored of it.  It just wasn’t long enough anymore.  So one evening after having sex, they were cuddling, and Louis was twirling his fingers around Harry’s short and tight curls.  He was sliding his fingers through the soft ringlets, humming contently, whispering sweet nothings into his lover’s ear.  Harry’s face was tucked into Louis’s neck, breathing heavily, taking in his comforting scent of cologne.  He was absentmindedly tracing Louis’s ‘it is what it is’ tattoo with his finger.

“You should grow it out,” Louis had suggested.

Harry looked up, green eyes wide.  “Really?”

“Yeah, baby,” Louis hummed, scratching softly at Harry’s scalp.  “It’d be so fucking hot.  Please?”

Of course, Harry is a people pleaser.  He always puts others’ feelings above his own, so he promptly agreed.  At first he didn’t like it.  After just three months without a haircut or even a trim, his hair was always falling in his face, making the back of his neck sweaty, losing its natural curls.  He started putting it back in a bandanna or hiding it under hats.  He thought it would drive Louis insane and make him want Harry to cut it again.  But, surprisingly, it only made Louis’s obsession stronger.  Harry’s hair became almost like private property to him.  Nobody else got to see or touch his long hair; only Louis.  Nobody else got to touch it or smell it or pull on it. 

When Harry starts pinning his hair back or putting it in buns, Louis’s fetish reaches its peak.  Sometimes while he’s fucking Harry senseless into the mattress, he’ll just thread his fingers through his locks and yank on it until he comes, but Harry’s never protested— in fact, he does the complete opposite.  He loves it when Louis’s rough with him, always has been into that sort of thing, so hair pulling quickly becomes his number one favorite kink.

So really, they’re both benefiting from this sort of thing.

But one night on stage, during a rather rowdy and excitable concert, a fan in the front row holds up a sign that catches Harry’s attention.  It’s neon pink and has flashing lights all around it.  He narrows his eyes at it and smiles instantly.

“Harry— braid your hair,” he reads aloud into his microphone, chuckling under his breath.  The crowed goes absolutely nuts, screaming at the top of their lungs.  Harry looks around and all of the boys are laughing, except Louis, who’s just got the fondest little smile on his lips. 

“Sorry, love,” Harry tells the fan.  “I don’t know how to braid hair, otherwise I would.”

“I know how to French braid!” Liam speaks up, and the crowed screams again.

Zayn laughs at that, giving Liam a concerned look.  “When did you learn how to French braid, mate?” he wonders out loud.

Liam shrugs.  “Don’t know, to be honest.  I think my sister taught me when I was little.”

And so that night, Liam French braids Harry’s hair on stage.  Louis is practically drooling while he watches it, breathing heavily as his boyfriend’s messy mop of brown is neatly braided and tucked to the side.  He might’ve gotten a little hard, too, because he began thinking about running his fingers through it and fucking him deep and rough and— wow, he could barely breathe.  He feels jealousy pooling in the pit of his stomach as Harry leans into Liam’s touch, but he tries to suppress it, doesn’t want fans getting suspicious.

Later, as the concert comes to an end, Louis walks past Harry while the crowed is distracted and whispers into his ear.

“ ‘m gonna fuck you so hard tonight,” he tells him, and Harry whimpers.

“Yeah?  You like the braid that much?” he teases back.

“Yeah baby,” Louis coos.  “I love it— so much.  ‘m gonna ruin you.”

Harry tenses up, blinking at him with fluttery eyelashes.   “Promise, daddy?” he whispers.

Those words go straight to Louis’s cock.  Harry  _knows_ that it’s one of Louis’s favorite kinks (apart from hair pulling and spanking), and he sure does like to use it against him.  Louis swears, if they weren’t on stage in front of thousands of teenage girls, he’d have sex with Harry right then and there.

“Of course baby,” Louis responds after a few seconds.  “Daddy will take care of you.”

Harry winks at him and scampers away so they can start the second to last song, “Little White Lies”.

After the gig, when the band heads back to the hotel, Louis fulfills his promise.

\- - - 

As soon as they’re alone in their shared hotel room somewhere in the states (they’ve long since lost track of which city they’re in), Louis is pouncing on Harry.  He slams Harry’s back up against the door, kissing him urgently.  He just needs to touch him, everywhere, anywhere.  His hands find their way to his hips, where he slides up his shirt a little bit.  He grips his hipbones tightly, fingernails digging into his inked skin.

Louis’s tongue slips into Harry’s mouth, and he nibbles on his bottom lip a little, tugging it between his teeth.  Harry moans loudly and turns his neck to the side, giving Louis access to it.  He’s always had a  _thing_ with his collarbones and necks.  It’s just a sensitive spot for him and Louis loves complying.  Louis’s tongue darts out experimentally to his right collarbone, just above one of his sparrow tattoos.  He nibbles lightly there at first, just to see if Harry’s sensitive tonight or not.  Apparently he is, because his hips buck and he whines deep in his throat.  Louis bites down hard and sucks Harry’s skin, his lips and tongue devouring every bit of flesh around his collarbone.  Harry just takes it and makes these pathetic little whimpers.

Harry’s hair is still tied up in that adorable little braid, and maybe that’s what’s making Louis so energetic and frantic.  He just wants to wreck him.

Louis pulls back, lust sparkling in his eyes.  He runs his hands up and down his torso.

“Take your clothes off and lay down, yeah?  Hands and knees for me,” Louis orders.  “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Harry nods, eager to please.  He sheds his clothes off, instantly feeling relieved.  He was still quite sweaty and gross from the concert, but neither Louis nor Harry could wait to take showers.  They needed each other, now.

Harry gets in the position that Louis told him to, hands and knees.  His shoulders slump a little, and sure his posture is a bit droopy, but Louis doesn’t seem to mind.

Louis only takes off his shirt, but keeps the rest on.  He gets on the bed, settling in front of Harry’s bum.  He feels Harry shiver underneath his touch when he strokes his arsecheeks, slowly, and then squeezes lightly. 

“You’re such a tease,” Louis scolds, pinching his left cheek.  Harry’s breath hitches, and Louis tsks.  “You knew that would get me all riled up, but you let Liam do it anyway,” he says, palm kneading into his bum.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” Harry apologizes, head hanging low. 

“Y’know what?” Louis says, ignoring his apology.  “I’m gonna have to fuck you rough now to punish you.  But you’d like that, wouldn’t you darling?”

He’s never seen Harry nod that quickly in his life.

“Slut,” Louis chuckles, looming over Harry’s back. 

He nudges his fingers towards Harry’s strawberry lips.  Harry accepts them, taking them into his mouth.  He lathers them with a liberal amount of spit, knowing that Louis won’t give him any lube.  When he’s done something “bad”, Louis doesn’t prep him properly.  It never actually is enough to  _hurt_ Harry; just enough to make it sting a bit— enough to burn afterwards.

Louis’s index finger circles gently around Harry’s entrance.  The tight muscle is clenching and unclenching again with anticipation.  He slides half of one finger into him, and listens closely as Harry lets out a deep breath of relief.  Another finger quickly follows, and then Louis starts aiming for that one spot.  He knows he finds it when Harry’s body jolts, like an electric current surges through his body.  He falls down to his elbows and his eyes go wide.  He moans loudly and presses back against Louis’s hand, only to find another finger sliding along the other two.  Louis smirks and crooks his fingers a little, watching as Harry falls apart before him.

It stings a lot, and he knows he’ll be sore in the morning, but he just accepts it.  He always does, without hesitation.  That’s why Louis loves him so much— he’s always so willing to please.

“God,” Harry grumbles.  “Fuck me now, _daddy_.”

Louis pinches Harry’s bum, scolding him.  “Don’t be greedy, now,” he warns.

But yet, Louis retracts his fingers and slips his hard cock out of his trousers.  He strokes himself a couple times and lines up with Harry’s entrance.  He teases him a bit, pressing his tip in, and then retracts it, until finally Harry gets the idea and pushes back against Louis’s cock. 

Louis will never get tired of Harry’s reaction when he first slides into him— it’s breathtaking.  Harry’s lips fall open beautifully, and the cutest little whine escapes past them, and all the muscles in his body tense up a bit.  He feels like he can barely breathe.

Without giving him much time to adjust, Louis starts pounding into him relentlessly, driving his cock into Harry’s tightness.  He looms over Harry’s body and kisses the skin behind his ear, fingernails digging into his shoulders.  He scratches and claws at his porcelain skin as his thrusts quicken. 

“You’re so tight for me,” Louis whispers, nipping at his earlobe.  “I’ve fucked you so many times and you’re still as tight as a virgin, baby.  You’re so good for daddy.”

Harry groans under his breath.

Louis chuckles lightly and continues to pound into him.  He reaches forward and tangles his hands through his hair, fingertips brushing over the braid.  He starts massaging his scalp while fucking him forcefully.  It amazes Harry how Louis can be so rough yet gentle at the same time.

And then the sweet side of him diminishes when he yanks on his hair, forcing Harry’s head up, so his eyes are trained on the ceiling.  Harry’s breathing heavily and is making these innocent little gasps. 

He looks angelic, Louis thinks.  His boyfriend looks as if he descended from heaven.  He’s absolutely perfect, and Louis never gets tired of watching Harry fall apart beneath him. 

“I’m close, daddy,” Harry chokes out when Louis tugs sharply on his hair again.  The braid has long since fallen out, forming careless waves across his sweaty forehead.  Louis thinks he might lose it.  Harry is just too much for him.

“You’re so perfect, my angel.  My pretty little boy,” Louis tells him, reaching his hand around Harry’s torso.  He grips his cock and Harry whines again, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck,” Harry breathes, arms wavering as Louis’s cock repeatedly prods at his prostate.

“Can you cum for me, sweetheart?  Be a good boy and cum in my hand,” Louis tells him.

After only a few strokes, Harry is coming, and he’s coming hard.  And when he does, emptying his load into Louis’s hand, Louis cums as well.  He spills into Harry, hands gripping tightly on his hair.  All he sees is alabaster skin and chestnut hair and strawberry lips and emerald eyes when he orgasms. 

Harry goes completely slack, collapsing on the bed with his stomach flat against the messy sheets.  Louis pulls out and rolls over next to him.  He breathes heavily and tries to slow down his rapid heartbeat. 

Louis looks over and brushes his hand over Harry’s shoulder.

“Hey,” he huffs.  “You alright, love?”

Harry rolls over onto his back.  He stares up at the rotating ceiling fan.  “I’m fine,” he murmurs. “Just tired.”

Louis smiles fondly and pats the space next to him.  “Cuddle me?” he asks.

Harry bites his lip and scoots in closely, comfortably snuggling in his embrace.  He presses his face to Louis’s neck and nuzzles his nose into his skin.  He presses a light kiss there and starts to unwind, hearing both of their heartbeats in sync.

“You were so good tonight,” Louis compliments, hands settling atop Harry’s hair, right where they belong.  He starts twirling some strands around his fingers. 

Harry hums in response.  Louis loves that Harry gets this way after sex.  He becomes all cuddly and drowsy, and he starts sleepily tracing Louis’s tattoos.  He doesn’t seem to mind when Louis begins to play play with his hair, knotting it and ruffling it through his hands.  He whispers sweet nothings into Harry’s ear while he falls asleep.  He tells him how beautiful he looks, and how good he was during sex, and how much he loves him. 

“I love you so much, angel,” Louis assures him, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Harry melts into his touch.  “Love you too,” he says tiredly.

(The following week, Liam teaches Louis how to French braid Harry’s hair.  And let’s just say, Louis has a lot of fun after that.)


End file.
